


Ransom

by matimae



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood, Bound, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mild torture, Ransom, Whump, a lot of thinking about death and such in the last part, beaten, depressed malcolm, gil is actually malcolms dad (not literally but ya know), i can't give him a break lol, i hate martin, malcolm needs a hug, written for whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:20:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matimae/pseuds/matimae
Summary: Malcolm is taken for ransom, but his captor isn’t after money…
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 209





	Ransom

Malcolm wakes with a start, feeling the restraints around his wrists like usual. It’s not until he opens his eyes he realizes they are not his restraints. Panic was beginning to set in, his confusion feeding into it more than anything else.

Malcolm had found himself sitting bound to a metal chair in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. From his perspective he was alone.

He took a big breath in and then let it out... He had to focus. How long had he been out? Was this about a case? Had to be.

Malcolm tried to pull against his restraints, no luck. For the time being, until he could think of a plan, he was trapped.

“You’re awake. Good.”

The voice came from behind, but before Malcolm could turn to see, the younger man had stepped into his vision. He was hardly 20 Malcolm mused, not the first profile he would have pegged.

The young man looked academic, a pair of sturdy glasses to go along with his knit sweater. This whole essence gave off a vibe, but Malcolm couldn’t quite place it.

“Hello, Malcolm Whitley.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but flinch at the use of his father’s last name. His heart started to beat faster, maybe this wasn’t just about a case.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, doing his best to appear calm. He had to keep the upper hand, if one could have the upper hand while unwillingly bound to a chair.

“Why, you are going to help me a great deal, Malcolm.” the young man’s face was earnest but malicious.

With every second he was forming a better idea of what his captor was, what motivated him, what caused him to take action, but all his revelations he came to all led to the same conclusion: he was in trouble.

“You are such a disappointment, you know?”

This caught Malcolm off guard, “What do you know about me?”

“Ha! What don’t I know about you, Malcolm Whitley? You betrayed your own father, your own flesh and blood!” the crazed man stood in front of Malcolm, proclaiming this as if Malcolm had personally offended him.

“He was a monster.”

“He was a master. He was an artist, really Malcolm? What makes you think he deserves to be trapped all alone? Suffering for showing his true self to the world? What ever happened to love your neighbor?”

Malcolm’s face rolled back in disgust, the ever familiar nausea of thinking about his father making a show again.

Malcolm knew he could debate with this kid all day, about how there is never an excuse to kill 23 people, but from the looks of it, it would just fall on deaf ears.

“Luckily, thanks to you, he won’t be trapped anymore.” the young man’s face morphed into a smile as Malcolm’s stomach dropped.

“What do you- what are you-” Malcolm couldn’t think clearly. He was only safe because of those 4 walls that his father was unable to cross. He couldn’t breathe. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s what you’re going to do.”

And with his words ringing in his ears the young man took a step closer to Malcolm, before hitting him straight across the face, brass knuckles inflicting most of the pain, and the loss of consciousness.

***

Gil finally found a moment to sit down and actually enjoy his coffee, he sighed content for a moment. The silence of the station almost lulling him into a mid-day nap, almost.

He was jostled out of his break by a pounding on his office door.

Gil sighed, of course, he couldn’t catch a moment. “Come in,”

Dani Powell entered, a yellow package in hand. “You need to see this.” Her expression was grim, “This came for the station. It was scanned. No bomb or anything, but honestly it might be worse.”

Gil thought to himself what ‘might be worse’ than a bomb, but he pushed that aside to inspect the laptop that was in the package.

“There was no password.” Dani paused before opening the laptop, unsure of what to say next. “It was only streaming one thing, a live camera.”

Gil’s eyebrow’s rose, he still wasn’t sure exactly why this was his problem, it was New York City. Strange things happened, a live feed to a camera is not the worse thing to be sent to a police station.

It wasn’t until Dani pulled up the video did Gil fully understand. His face drained of all color, the taste of coffee in his mouth going sour. Displayed on the video monitor was a dark screen, but he was able to make out the figure lying slumped in the chair, hardly moving. He couldn’t form words for a moment. He had so many questions, the biggest if he was okay, was his kid okay?

“Bright. What did you get yourself into?” he mumbled before sinking into his chair.

His hand on his chin he wore a far away expression. Dani looked unsure if to talk, but had to give more information.

“It’s live, I put some people on tracking it, but whoever set it was smart. We’ve had no luck. Maybe with more time-but Lieutenant, it’s not looking good.

Gil nodded. From a law enforcement perspective, he knew what had to happen, but Bright was his blind spot. He swallowed before giving Dani a direction, he couldn’t make any mistakes on this one.

“Make sure that’s being monitored at all time, I’m going to take a Tarmel to Bright’s place to see if we can turn anything up. Let me know as soon as anything changes.”

“Will do boss,” Dani nodded before exiting the room.

Gil stared blankly at his office wall, willing it all to be a dream. For himself to wake up in his office chair having nodded off, Bright to be hounding him about another case. But this was real life. And this was a real problem.

***

Malcolm was awakened to a bucket of cold water poured over him, he whipped his head to get it out of his eyes, but without his hands to wipe the water, it continued to drip into his eyes. This was worse than the punches. Malcolm could handle a beating, but when it came to his eyes he couldn’t have anything covering them, he had to be able to see, he had to be able to perceive, it was all he was good at…

He supposed that he was lucky that his captor’s intent wasn’t to torture him, with all he knew about him that could get pretty messy pretty quick.

By the time the water ran off his eyes and he was able to see again he noticed there was a change, specifically a small tripod set up to the left of him, the camera atop flashing a steady red telling him that it was recording.

That didn’t look good for him.

Before he could get too far away with his imagination the young man showed himself to him again.

“We’re one step closer to our goal, right Malcolm?” he said turning away from Malcolm to give a cheesy grin into the camera.

Malcolm figured that meant he was ransom. Or being used for ransom, whatever the proper term was he couldn’t think over the pounding of his head and the incessant voice of his captor trailing on.

“As you can see, I have someone here with me today. A very special someone, who made a terrible mistake a while ago. Now he’s going to fix it.”

The man approached Malcolm, still talking into the camera. “If I’m not being clear enough, you release the genius Doctor Martin Whitley, or his disgrace of a son dies.”

Malcolm half expected the next hit, this one knocking him and his chair onto the floor.

He had to admit that it did hurt, but Malcolm assumed it was more for dramatic effect than his pain. That might be coming later.

***

Gil replayed the clip that Dani had sent him on his phone, of the threat, of Malcolm being thrown into the ground. Gil couldn’t help himself but to replay it again, it couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than when he had seen the video last.

At least Bright was awake, he thought. He was alive and breathing, beaten and bruised, but alive. Then again, whoever the maniac that was holding him seemed completely unhinged, and not very patient.

It wasn’t even Gil’s decision, if they could release Martin for Malcolm, they had a pretty strict “don’t negotiate with terrorists” policy, and no matter how much he cared for the hostage, there were no special circumstances.

Gil pocketed his phone, he couldn’t stomach another rewatch, somehow he was putting all the blame on himself again. If he was keeping a closer eye on Bright then no one would have gotten the chance to do this, but he couldn’t help it if the kid didn’t let anyone in. Or was that just another excuse?

With a frustrated sigh, Gil gave up with his self quarrel. He studied Malcolm’s loft. It was all he could do. His hands were tied with Martin, and there was still no luck with tracking the source of the video. How many empty warehouses could there really be in New York? Too many, he thought. Too many.

“Has anyone talked to Martin yet?” JT asked him.

Gil shook his head, “No. There’s nothing we can do, even if we could let him go, we shouldn’t. It would be too dangerous to the world.”

“What about if he could ID Malcolm’s captor?” JT asked, “He’s a freak, so I’m sure he keeps tabs on all of his obsessors, I mean the man probably has a scrapbook titled, ‘my fans’.”

“That’s a good idea. Take Powell. I’m going to stay here…there has to be something we’ve missed.” Gil started to drift off again.

JT put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to get him.”

“But will it be in time?”

***

Malcolm kept his eyes closed. When he controlled when he couldn’t see it actually helped him. Take his mind off of things anyway, of his busted lip and bleeding face, his most likely broken ribs and his captor that didn’t seem to be losing any momentum.

He would do this annoying countdown for the camera, telling them and Malcolm before he would receive another hit. But Malcolm could rise above it, after all, didn’t he deserve it? If it weren’t for him the Surgeon would be old news from yesterday’s paper, but his constant presence only seemed to dredge up the past even more.

“Why-” Malcolm paused to spit a mouthful of blood. “are you doing this? What does Martin mean to you?”

The younger man smiled briefly at Malcolm’s question. “Martin is my, well, father in many ways. Or, I am his son. At least, his son that respects and doesn’t disappoint him.”

Malcolm’s face creased in confusion. “How do you figure that he’s your father?”

“I was born in 1998. The same day the Surgeon was arrested. My disgrace of a birth father had abandoned my mother in the hospital, the same day Martin’s disgrace of a birth son abandoned him to the police. We were a match sewn by fate.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I am the only one seeing clearly!” he raised his voice.

Malcolm shook his head, blood dripping down his temple.

“You want him? You want him as a father? You want him haunting your every waking moment? You can have him!” Malcolm matched his tone.

The young man shook with rage, “You don’t even know what you have.”

“What I have? I have issues! I have so many issues, because he not only killed 23 people, he ruined all of our lives! I’ve lived my whole life trying to get away from him, and now here I sit, about to die to release him! Can’t you see that this insane?!”

Malcolm broke down, drowning in his own anger which morphed to a sob. He almost forgot that he was being recorded. Hopefully, no one was watching.

The man was practically seething and Malcolm sunk back into his chair. It was no use. There was simply no talking his way out of this one. There was no way out of this one.

***

Gil looked down at his phone buzzing. He didn’t know if he could handle another clip of a video, but he answered the phone anyway.

Dani was on the other line, “We have a lead!” she practically shouted, and for a moment…Gil allowed himself to hope.

“We’ve been analyzing the video and Malcolm got his captor to start talking about himself, he was born the same day the Surgeon was arrested and has been obsessed with him as his father for some reason. Weirdness aside, we got a real lead with his birthdate and a current picture. JT and I have had no luck with Martin, he claims he had ‘no idea he was so popular’. I wanted to sock him in the face,” Dani said the last bit quieter but Gil smiled.

They had a chance. Standing up from Malcolm’s bed he rushed the door, they had a sick man to arrest and their man to save.

***

“We’ve spent a great deal of time here, haven’t we Malcolm? No dice though. No word that the Surgeon has been released.” the young man smiled.

“Have I really just misjudged your importance? Or do you really just have no friends? Either way, Malcolm Whitley, you haven’t been doing it.”

Malcolm leaned his head back and looked to the ceiling. It was too late to try to fight him, he was too injured and weak. But who’s to say he ever would’ve been able to hold his own?

“Last count down everyone.” the man said, then the clicking of a bullet being loaded into the chamber echoed through the warehouse.

Malcolm couldn’t hide the tear that slipped down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, it was finally happening. He was finally going to die. Maybe it was because he was going to die because of his father, or because he could never see his team again, his friends.

“Ten minutes folks. What are you going to do? Are you going to watch me blow Malcolm Whitley’s brains all over this place, or are you going to release the doctor?”

Malcolm had tuned him out at this point. He only wished that he had one more day. To hug his sister, to thank Gil, to tell Dani, JT and Edrisa how much working with them had shaped his life. However short. He would tell his mother that he forgave her. She was awful as a parent, but he couldn’t hold that over her now. Now that he was going to die broadcasted to the whole world.

His only hope was that they looked away. That they didn’t watch him die. Then again, what did it matter? They would be the ones that found him. Would Edrisa do his autopsy? Would the team be assigned to his murder? Would his father cry when he heard? What about Ainsley? She was so vulnerable right now, would she be assigned to do a story on him? On the way that he died?

“7 minutes!”

Malcolm couldn’t help himself diving deep into his thoughts, entertain them because this might be his last chance. He didn’t really want to think about it. Now that it was becoming a reality it wasn’t as gracious as he had thought it would be. Death. He had been surrounded by death all his life, it’s not like he could avoid it though. Could anyone?

“3 minutes, you better hope that he gets released soon, I’m serious about this gun Malcolm…”

Malcolm shut his eyes, he would close them on his terms. Not when the bullet hit him. He was supposed to choose. Not some stranger in a warehouse. Him.

“60 seconds, well, it was nice knowing you. Now you get to die as the disgrace you turned yourself into that day.”

The gunshot rang through the warehouse making Malcolm jump.

His face was twitching uncontrollably, his eyes still squeezed shut. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought. Death.

He was still shaking, unable to open his eyes.

“Bright!” called a familiar voice from across the room.

Gil.

Malcolm hesitantly opened his eyes to see Gil and what seemed to be the whole of the department surrounding him.

Malcolm’s eyes followed the blood splatter to his captor laying face-first on the ground.

It was over. It was really over.

“Bright, are you okay?” Gil asked rushing to undo his binds.

All Malcolm could do was nod, it was all too much. He had come to terms with death, and now yet again he was left shaking and broken, but this time, not alone.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Gil said directing Malcolm towards the awaiting ambulance.

Malcolm took his shaking hands and ran them through his blood-stained hair. He stopped in his tracks, and when Gil turned to stop with him Malcolm put both his arms around him and said exactly what he had been meaning to for the past 20 years.

“Thank you,”

**Author's Note:**

> (originally written for whumptober: prompt "ransom" "bound" "beaten")


End file.
